


Healing Spells

by bamftastik



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:51:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamftastik/pseuds/bamftastik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cold strikes the Inquisition</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Spells

He heard the coughing as soon as he stepped into the library, a fit of hacking and sniffling followed by a string of what he assumed were virulent curses. Misamahl’len might not understand the words, but the voice made him smile.

He found Dorian slumped at a desk, the tabletop before him littered with open tomes, likely every book on magic to be found in Skyhold. Turning over one of the covers, Misamahl’len arched a brow.

"One does have to admire your dedication."

Dorian sighed. “And yet there’s nothing here. Not a single healing spell. I could swear I recall…” Trailing off, he mopped at his brow, sneering with disgust at the sweat staining his sleeve.

Misamahl’len pulled the book from beneath his fingers and lay a hand against his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

"Temporarily. Places to go, demons to kill, you know. Perhaps a simple weave of frost would counteract—"

"No." Misamahl’len crouched beside him. "I don’t want you experimenting. You can’t solve everything with magic."

He managed a weak chuckle. “Oh ye of little faith.”

"Just let me take you to a healer."

Dorian paled. The thought of moving was visibly too much to bear. He shook his head. “I even attempted to consult Madame de Fer, but the woman wouldn’t open her door more than a crack. I did spot a terribly unflattering dressing gown, but when I expressed my concern, she merely said” – his voice took on a mocking, nasal tone – “‘Perfebly fine, darling. But if your Inquisitor wisheb to speak wib me, he should send a messenger who ib not so clearly diseased.’”

Misamahl’len laughed.

"She said my mustache looked _wilted_.”

"It’s not quite its usual springy self."

With a sigh, Dorian let his head sink to the table.

"You’re not alone, you know. Varric’s passed out in front of the fire in the great hall. His snoring’s scandalizing the supplicants, but none of them want to get near enough to wake him. Krem even told me that he nearly bested the Iron Bull in the training yard. Bull managed to win by charging him, but Krem described it more as falling in his direction and knocking them both into the dirt."

Dorian chuckled into the tabletop. “The mighty Inquisition, waylaid by a cold.”

"Not all of us. Hawke’s okay. Sera’s managed to avoid everyone. Solas—"

"Ah, yes. The man walks barefoot through the snow and not a sniffle." He lifted his head again, his fevered eyes scanning the pages before him. "Which means there must be _something_ …”

Misamahl’len lay a hand on his shoulder. “The healers are doing their best with their potions. They tell me it will pass. A few days at most. You just need to _rest_ , Dorian.”

"And let you charge off against Corypheus and take all the glory for yourself? I think not."

Misamahl’len smiled. He knew better. “I won’t be alone. I’ll have protection.”

"If Corypheus has truly corrupted the Wardens…"

"Then we don’t have time to waste. And if I take the fight to them…" He moved his hand to Dorian’s knee and gave it a squeeze.

"You’ll draw his attention away before he realizes that half your army can barely stand."

"Speaking of which…" Pushing to his feet, he offered Dorian his hand. "I’m not having you sleep in the library. Stay in my chambers while I’m gone."

Dorian sighed, letting Misamahl’len help him to his feet. Falling against him, he smirked. “I am growing rather fond of them.”

"Come on, then." Wrapping an arm around his waist, Misamahl’len helped him to the stairs. "I’ll tuck you in myself."

 

 

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